to sound like the setting for a soap opera. Days of Our Disgruntled Lives. “Who on earth are you talking about?”
“Eli Ashton. The SOB who threw a fit about Spencer’s will and the Ashton-Lattimer stocks I inherited.”
Money, she thought. The root of all evil. Only in this case, she didn’t know if Eli was the evil party or if Walker fit the bill. “How is Eli related to your uncle?”
“He’s one of Spencer’s kids with Caroline Lattimer, a former wife. The other Ashton family.” He walked over to a mini bar in the corner and poured himself a shot of tequila, the first time Tamra had seen him drink. “They have a boutique winery about twenty-five miles from here. But that’s not enough for Eli. He’ll probably try to steal the Ashton-Lattimer stocks away from me.”
“Did Spencer leave Caroline’s children anything in the will?”
“Nope.”
“And you don’t think that’s wrong?”
“It’s not my place to judge my uncle’s decision. Besides, Eli is only making a fuss because his grandfather on his mother’s side founded the investment banking business.”
“But Spencer ended up with it?”
“Caroline’s father left it to him. Of course that was before Spencer divorced her. Then again, it doesn’t really matter because their marriage was never legal. Spencer had a wife in Nebraska a long time ago, but he never divorced her.”
Tamra could only stare. Her head was twirling like a top. “And what was her name?”
“Sally. He has grown kids with her, too. Oh, and there’s a little boy Spencer fathered two years ago.”
“He cheated on Lilah?”
“As far as I know, he cheated on all of his wives. Lilah was one of his mistresses before he married her. She was his secretary. The old make-out-in-the-office routine.”
“And this is the man you admired?”
Walker gave her a disturbed stare. “He treated me better than he treated everyone else. What am supposed to do? Hate him for that?”
“No, but you shouldn’t be rude to Irena because her daughter is engaged to Eli.”
“We’re back to that?”
“That’s right, we are. Did you really expect Irena to stop her daughter from falling in love?” She paused, looked at him, felt her heart pick up speed. “Love isn’t something a person can control. Not a parent, not a child, not a man or a woman.”
He frowned, squinted, left his empty shot glass on the bar. “What if Eli contests the will?”
“Then he contests it. That doesn’t have anything to do with Irena. You owe her an apology, Walker.”
“Listen to you. The voice of compassion.” He sat on the edge of the bed again. “But you’re right, I do. I’ll apologize to her tonight, sometime before dinner. After all, she can’t help it if her daughter fell for a selfish jerk.”
Tamra doubted that Eli was the money grubber Walker was making him out to be. She suspected there was more to the story, and Irena had supported her daughter’s decision for all the right reasons. “Good parents try to make their children happy.”
“You’re talking about Irena, right?”
She gave him a solemn nod. She certainly wasn’t referring to Spencer.
Walker gazed out a second-story window, and she followed his line of sight. She couldn’t see the view from her perspective, but she suspected he was gazing at his family’s vineyards, the way he’d studied Mary’s land allotment while he’d been on the rez.
Was he comparing the Napa Valley wine country to the South Dakota plains?
“My mom wants me to be happy,” he said.
“Yes, she does. Mary loves you very much.”
“I know. I can feel her affection.” He turned away from the window. “But I don’t understand it. She barely knows me.”
Tamra walked away from the closet, taking a seat next to him on the bed. “Most mothers have a special bond with their children. I never knew my baby at all. But I loved her.” She placed her hand on his knee, recalling the day she’d buried Jade. “She’ll always be in my heart.”
He touched her face, running his knuckles along her jaw. A masculine caress, a man-to-woman need. “I wish it was that easy for me. That I could love Mary the way she loves me.”
“You will. Someday you will.”
She put her head on his shoulder, and he held her so tight she could hardly breathe. But she didn’t care. She wanted to be as close to him as possible.
He released the top button of her blouse, and she lifted her head, grateful, so incredibly grateful, for his seduction.
As he kissed her neck, as his lips sought her skin, she opened her shirt completely, allowing him access to her bra, to the cleavage between her breasts.
He accepted the offering, putting his mouth all over her, leaving warm, damp marks. Branding her, she thought, taking possession.
They slid onto the bed, lying side by side, caressing, kissing, making each and every sensation count.
Sweet and slow. Dark and sensual.
He removed her bra, then skimmed his hand down her stomach, popping the snap on her jeans, playing with the waistband of her panties. When he moved lower, she caught her breath.
They rolled over the bed, scattering pillows, rumpling the quilt. Wanting more, they took turns undressing each other. And by the time she got to his trousers, he was hard and thick and desperate to straddle her. But she worked his zipper slowly, teasing him, making him wait.
“That’s not fair,” he said.
“Isn’t it?” Tamra found her way into his boxers and skimmed the tip of his arousal, where moisture beaded like an iridescent pearl. She rubbed it onto his skin, and his entire body quaked.
“Not fair at all,” he reiterated.
“You’re impatient,” she whispered in his ear.
“Can’t help it.” He kissed her, swirling his tongue, making love to her mouth.
She finished undressing him, and his breathing accelerated. Finally, when they were flesh to flesh, he braced himself above her.
But he didn’t push her legs apart. He simply gazed at her, taking in every feminine curve. Then he cuffed her wrists with his hands, holding her arms above her head, making her his prisoner.
Tamra could only imagine how she looked, her nipples peaked, her areolae several shades darker than her brown skin.
“You’re the most compatible lover I’ve ever had,” he said.
